Skata. He was losing his ever-loving mind. What the hell was he doing? She was a means to an end, nothing more. The sooner he remembered that, the better off he’d be. What he should have been focused on was the fact he’d been so swept up in some insane psycho lust because of her, he’d nearly forgotten they weren’t alone in this cavern.
He slid the sword into the scabbard draped across his back and was silent as she pawed through the satchel, pulled out a wallet. Tried like hell to remember what Orpheus had said about her during those miserable hours his brother had sat in his room trying to cheer him up while he stared out the window wishing he could stab out his eardrums. Somehow she was linked to the gods, but he couldn’t remember which ones. She wasn’t a goddess herself, but she’d been the one to tell Orpheus where the Orb of Krónos was located.
What if she was casting some kind of magic over him? What if she was playing head games? She’d been trying to escape from the colony herself tonight. He didn’t put it past her to use whatever means she could to get free of him. She’d gone from scared shitless to queen of irate to completely turned on faster than he could flash in Argolea. Something was off with this female. Something that sent a shiver of foreboding down his spine.
She opened the wallet. It too was blackened and crusty, as if it had been burned, but the contents inside were still readable. She turned it so he could see. “Vladimir Aristov. That sounds Russian.”
Cautiously, he took the wallet from her, ignored the way heat arced from her fingers into his. Ignored the fact that just that little contact reminded him what she’d felt like, all hot and bothered between him and those rocks. “It is. Aristov…That name’s familiar.”
She pushed to her feet next to him, and he smelled jasmine. Remembered the rush of heat that had sent him into a tailspin only moments before. He wanted to move back, but there was nowhere to go except into the freezing river. And he wasn’t risking that again.
“Wasn’t Aristov the name of the Misos who built the castle?” she asked. “The one the colony is housed in? I’m sure there’s a plaque in the library about him.”
Gryphon’s gaze slid to the blackened skeletal remains, and understanding dawned. “That’s why no one’s ever found the colony.”
“What are you—?”
He pulled the ore from his pocket. The one she’d dropped earlier when she wigged out and left his ass behind. “He must have come down here and taken samples back up. When the ore is warmed, whatever it’s touching becomes invisible. I bet you ten bucks there’s a room in that castle full of these.” He looked up and around, a new tingle sliding down his spine, one that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with urgency. “It’s not the mountains and the lake protecting the colony, it’s the ore. And that means there’s some kind of access from the castle down here to this cavern. One a whole lot easier to access than the way we came through.”
Sonofabitch. They needed to make tracks before Nick and his men caught up with them. They’d wasted precious time getting warm, drying out their clothes, kissing.
No more fucking kissing. Not with her. Not now. Not ever. He was not going back to the hell of that colony. Not because of her. Whatever she was doing to him, it ended here.
He turned to tell her just that, when trepidation slid over her face, and she looked at the body near her feet. “Then what about him? All the stories I heard said Aristov never actually lived here. If he did—”
“Then they were covering up his death.”
Maelea’s worried gaze shot to him, then slowly slid back to the remains. “What else is down here that they want to keep secret?”
A clicking sound echoed behind them. Followed by hushed whispers wafting on the air. Lots of them.
Maelea tensed, looked past him into the dark. And froze.
Fuck.
Slowly, Gryphon turned too. Then swore again when dozens of beady eyes stared back at them from the dark.
He’d thought they needed to get out of this damn cavern to get away from Nick’s men? Think again. Right now they needed to find a way out so they didn’t get eaten by the forty or fifty kobaloi waiting to devour them alive.
“What do we do?” Maelea whispered at his side.
“Run like hell.”
Maelea’s heart pounded hard in her chest as she pumped her arms and pushed her legs forward. Her boots slipped on the wet rocks, but she caught herself at the last second and kept from going down. Behind her, Gryphon yelled, “Haul ass, female!”
Clicks and scratching sounds echoed in every direction. It sounded as if they were being pursued by at least a hundred kobaloi, maybe more. Panic swamped her chest. The green glow from the river lit up the steadily shrinking cavern. Ahead, the river wound to the right, disappearing in darkness. The cave narrowed to only an archway over the river, nothing but sheer rock walls rising straight up on each side.
They were running out of ground. There was nowhere else to go.
Her feet slowed. That panic tightened her chest until she could barely breathe. Before she could turn to look back, Gryphon grasped her arm and hollered, “Jump!”
He yanked her with him into the frigid water. Her head submerged. She came up sputtering, grasping for Gryphon’s arm, as the current caught hold and whisked them downstream.
His arm encircled her waist, and the long, hard line of his body came up against hers. Shrieks sounded from the shoreline. One look over his shoulder confirmed the kobaloi were pissed, jumping up and down, waving their scaly arms, hissing toward the river. But they made no effort to jump in and follow.
Relief was bittersweet. A shiver racked her body as they passed under the archway and were drawn into the low-ceilinged tunnel. She grabbed on tighter to Gryphon in the hope his body heat would keep her from freezing to death. “Wh-what now?” she managed through chattering teeth.
“I don’t know.”
He grasped the sword in one hand. The other was wrapped tight around her body, holding her close. As he studied the tunnel for some escape route, she eased back and took a good look at his face. Maybe the first good look she’d taken since this nightmare began.
Water dripped down the sandy blond hair plastered to his head, slid over his temples and along his chiseled cheekbones. His skin was pale—not as white as hers, but it clearly hadn’t seen sunshine in months—and a hint of blond stubble ran along his strong jawline. He had a straight nose and a small mole near his left temple, and his irises…they were the most mesmerizing blue she’d ever seen. Light, not rich—like the summer sky on a clear morning.
Handsome. The word came out of nowhere. Ricocheted in her head. If he didn’t have that dead look to his eyes, she’d think him good-looking. And if she’d seen him anywhere else—like on the street back at her home in Seattle—she’d likely have been attracted to him for purely physical reasons.
His head swiveled in her direction, and his gaze pinned hers with an intensity that pierced the core of her. She sucked in a breath even as the pull toward him intensified. The one that stirred the darkness inside with excitement.
“You’re staring at me.”
“I just…” But she didn’t have a valid comeback, because she was. And who was she kidding? She was attracted to him now, regardless of the vile things she knew about him. Because of the vile things she knew about him.
She looked quickly away, but didn’t let go. Not even she was that stupid. Another shiver raced over her skin. “Where do you think this goes?”
“I don’t know,” he said again as they bounced along with the current. “But until it opens up, all we’ve got is each other.”